my eyes are red but my soul is pure
by gaysnowball
Summary: Jace never actually thought that Lord Death would choose him to become one of the next generation sins. But when his 16th birthday arrives, he becomes the literal incarnation of Wrath and is jetted into a 25 year old body of himself and given the power to dictate the afterlives of angry people everywhere. Also, he has a crush on death.


**So I'm super excited because I've been developing these characters forever and a day and it's just good to get them on paper.**

**So yeah please enjoy this is a religious (not) story (?!)**

You grow up hearing about what an honor it is to be acknowledged by Lord Death. How that if you were ever given the chance, the jump at whatever opportunity he gave you. Reaper? Yes. Consolidate? Absolutely. Janitor? Whynot?

But never in all his years had Jace actually expected to _become_ one of these legendary honorifics. So when Lord Death himself arrived at his suburban doorstep shrouded in black clothes that fitted him like drapes, Jace reacted accordingly; he choked on his cigarette.

With a lewd grin, Lord Death (or the Big LD as Jace likes to call him) waltzed into his parent's house and inspected the family photos hanging in the hallway. Each one showed a different step in the progression of Jace's life; his smiling, younger days where his face wasn't so pierced and his skin wasn't so colorful up until now; dark clothes and a darker expression in every frame. LD smiled at growing severity in each picture, watching how Jace's discomfort around his bubbly relatives wasn't because of nurture, but because of nature.

This was how he knew that Jace was perfect for the role he had in mind; his predisposition to avoid and continually shun other people. Not to mention the extensive track record of fights and jail time he had following him.

Wrath, an old friend of his, was stepping down from his position; claiming that his age made him more senile than angry. That a fresh start should be made to allow the proper punishment for sinners and the prevention of harming innocents. LD needed someone angry. LD needed Wrath.

So when the perfect boy lands in his lap at the perfect time, he zaps him into Hell without a second's notice.

-o-

Six millennium and the process of _locate, prosecute, subject, repeat _has grown on Wrath's nerves. He would say it's part of his job to be agitated and fidgety, but Lust would say he just needs to get laid.

Wrath blows out his breath and slumps in his throne, frowning at the man before him, knelt and quivering, begging for lesser punishment. He always hates these guys, the domestic abusers who get their kicks out of hitting women while their drunk and wallowing. They're almost always sent directly to the outer ring of the 7th Circle; violence against people and property. Technically, his domain only spans to the 5th Circle, but he's a Christian in a Catholic Hell; compromises must be made _somewhere_.

Here in the Vestibule though, there is no King Midas to rule the bad apples from the really bad ones; it's all up to the individuals. So Wrath sits, and he growls at the _stupid fucking idiots _who can't understand that are_ already in Hell, _and thatthey can't just_ leave. _But people still seem to think that they can seek salvation once they're already dead (which is not true) and try to swindle the Seven Deadly Sins into believing that they're actually good people.

Wrath blows hot air of his nose, making the bull ring centered between his nostrils sway. He received it at the same time he received the lines etched into his skin; not the tattoos, but the _literal lines_ that ran in straight segments along his arteries. When he first arrived in Hell, his physical age had been changed from 16 to 25, where LD thought he would be most physically capable, while a numerous assortment of _other_ bodily altercations had also been made.

Lust sat to his left with heavily rimmed eyes and lipstick running all along his neck. The boy chained next to him preened and petted his legs, trying to get him to pay attention to the show he was trying to give him. But Lust's eyes stayed focused on his brother, smirking at the uncomfortable expression on Wrath's face. Wrath snarled lowly and faced him, asking, "Problem, brother? Or are you on one of your incestuous streaks again?"

Lust laughs boisterously, kicking his boy back and grinning wider at Wrath. In a rather jolly voice, he says "Wrath I tell you every time, and I'll tell you again, you need a good screw-"

"LD thinks it's good I'm a virgin. Thinks the sexual frustration keeps me on my toes."

Lust rolls his eyes at his brother's excuses, quipping "Yeah, maybe a couple of _millennia _ago. But now you're just wound up and it's stressing everybody out. I mean-look at poor Gluttony over there, she's stress eating."

Gluttony snapped her head up at the sound of her name, one hand stuck in a bucket of unidentifiable meat and the other lying heavily on her stomach. Lust just shook his head at her and Gluttony glared, digging back into her fifth meal of the day. The older sin looked back to Wrath and smiled maliciously, "Brother, everyone _knows _you've been pining over that reaper girl for some centuries now. What's her name; Sasha?"

Wrath growls at him and Lust just smiles wider "Ah yes, _Sasha. _Lovely girl, really; long legs, nice ass, _spectacular _tits-"

Wrath slams a hand onto the arm of his throne, bellowing "ENOUGH! You really want to know Lust, do you?" his brother nods vigorously, eyes wide. "I want to _crawl under her skin_ and make sure no one else touches her ever again. I want to fuck her in so many different ways that she won't be able to _walk, _let alone reap-"

"You really want to do all that?" an apathetic voice calls out. Wrath freezes, and Lust just smiles; teeth white and dripping with malice. The younger brother stares at the elder with a sense of both shock and wonderment, rumbling, "You set me up. You knew she was coming."

Lust offers no verbal response, but Sasha does. "If you wanted in my pants, you could've just asked. I mean, it's not like I wouldn't have let you have me."

Wrath is embarrassed and in that embarrassment anger comes quickly; a natural reaction. He stands, and abruptly, snaps Lust's neck; it will heal quickly, before glaring at Sasha and stomping out though the arched entryway. As he passes her, he sees that her normally straight mouth is quirked at the edges and her voice carries a tone of amusement when she says, "So, no leg-breaking sex today?"

Wrath just growls and throws her over his shoulder before leaving.

-o-

Lust is pressed up against his brother's door, his ear flattened to the black steel that should, but fails, to muffle the loud screams coming from inside.

Wrath and Sasha have been locked in there for _days _and while Lust might love sex, he does not love it that much. Refocusing, he can make out deep grunts and the growing pitch of a feminine whine before they both unfurl; groans and gasps drowning him in the cacophony of what must be a really great fuck.

Lust purrs a little; he's turned on, obviously, and decides that it's time to leave his dear little bother to his own devices without telepathically coaching him through and find his _own _really great fuck.

As he chases the skirts of crimson-skinned demon women that giggle and pretend they don't want his cock, he misses the way Wrath's voice softens and Sasha's expresses actual emotion. Three little words and it's all it takes for Sasha to have a second copy of Wrath's tattoos on her own skin. Only a two second sentiment and they are bound inexplicably together until they never die.

-o-

Sasha is asleep, waist-length hair strewn over a marble arm rest, in Wrath's lap. Wrath is trying to focus on work; judging the soul of a serial killer with daddy issues, but the way his wife's protruding stomach is moving with his son is really distracting.

He rests a large hand on her abdomen and traces light circles into her waist, attempting to keep her from waking up because _damn _if she is terrifying when tired and pregnant.

Her scythe it propped against Lust's throne while his latest flavor of the day coos at the 'Red Queen's' display of domestic demon life. Pride, Wrath's kid sister, sits stiffly on his other side, her eyes straying to her favorite sister-in-law's prone form every few seconds, glaring at the succubus that keeps trying to _undermine her authority as main female friend_.

Pride really couldn't care less about her brother; come on, she's _way _over his head, but his little wife's stony expression keeps her ego to a minimum and really, she's quite an avid listener. While Pride tells her all about the fulfilling, better-than-yours day that she's had, Sasha sits silently and endures the never ending back-handed comments and plain insults. Maybe she wasn't actually listening to begin with, but Pride liked to think that she was and that she was praising her regardless.

Wrath stares at his future charge; an embittered woman who's entire life was spent picketing the marriages of same sex couples in her home state of Missouri (Lust is positively _burning_ holes into the side of her head with his glare). He tries, he really does, to keep his mind as straight forward as his vision, but it always strays back to the woman sitting on his thighs.

So as soon as he sentences the woman to the 5th Circle, he lifts Sasha up and carries her to their marital bed, planning on waking her up with his tongue between her thighs so that he can reach his happily-ever-after too. That is if she isn't too tired and angry.

Okay, so maybe he wants her a _little bit_ angry.

**Yo, so I like this and I could do more? Or less?**

**Yeah whatever I just kind of love Hell and everything that has to do with death and stuff. Tell me if it sucks; writing critics - tell me how to make it sound better?**


End file.
